


Auld Lang Syne

by jadelotusflower



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Corellians are space Scots, F/M, New Year's Kiss Challenge, When Harry Met Sally AU, aka the most derivative fic ever, but hey, happy new year, it's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadelotusflower/pseuds/jadelotusflower
Summary: When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
Relationships: Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 25
Kudos: 61





	Auld Lang Syne

Mara hated New Year’s Eve, especially on Coruscant. Drunks in the street, obnoxious music blasting from every window, crowds of people wearing the tightest clothing they owned, desperate to cram into one club or another. She’d attended the requisite shindig held by the Smuggler’ Alliance, thrown back a few drinks, schmoozed with potential buyers, eaten half her body weight in canapés, and left before the fireworks.

But there was still the aftermath to contend with the following day - the cleaning droids working overtime to scour the street of vomit and debris, and throngs of people still loitering about nursing hangovers, crammed into diners consuming greasy breakfasts.

Mara would have stayed indoors catching up on some work, but an urgent job had come in and she’d spent the day criss-crossing the city chasing down the request. But it had been worth it - the buyer had been so grateful for her diligence and speed he’d paid her double, and Mara was satisfied that it had been a good day’s work despite being a mandated holiday.

As she walked home at night through the once again pristine streets, Mara saw a familiar human and Wookiee duo leave a bar laden with various bottles of alcohol, their arms so full a few threatened to topple. 

“Oi, Mara!” Han called as he spied her. “Little help?”

Mara sighed, but crossed the street and relieved Han of two whiskey bottles before they fell.

“You know they let you drink these inside,” she said idly, examining the label - 20 year old Corellian. “Or did you pilfer them?”

Han laughed. “No, cost us a pretty credit - but we’ve run out upstairs and all the liquor stores are closed for the holiday.”

“You having a party?” Mara looked up, and recognised the fancy apartment building  _ Aldera _ where the Organa-Solos occupied the penthouse.

“Of course.” Han adjusted the grip on his armful of booze. “It’s New Years!”

“It was New Years last night.” Mara checked her chrono just in case. “Done, over - welcome to Galactic Standard Year 6120.”

“Or as we say in the New Republic, 18 ABY.”

Mara gave a thin smile. She never liked marking the years either by the Imperial Standard or the New Republic’s. Both were too recent, their reigns to short to truly give measure to the passage of time. 

“ _ Corellian _ New Year,” Han grinned, “lasts at least three days. A full week if it’s a new decade.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “But of course.”

Chewbacca growled something to Han, who grimaced. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he turned back to Mara. “Chewie says I should apologise for not inviting you, Jade. But I didn’t know you were planetside.”

“Even if you had, I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

“Aw, come off it.” Han started walking, and Mara, still holding the whiskey, had no choice but to follow. “Like it or not, Jade, you’re a friend of the family.” 

Chewbacca gave her a sly look and said something which made Han laugh, but he didn’t bother to translate for her as they entered the apartment complex. Mara thought about offloading the alcohol back into Solo’s arms and stalking out, but she wouldn’t want such fine whiskey to smash on the floor and go to waste. 

“Anyway,” Han said as he hit the button to call the repulsorlift with his elbow. “Come up and enjoy the party. We’ve got plenty of booze now.” He laughed and jostled the bundle in his arms. “Food too - there’s no New Year like a Corellian New Year.” 

Mara didn’t respond as they rode up in the lift, fully intending simply to drop off her cargo and make a polite exit. Maybe she’d grab some canapes on the way, considering the conservator in her apartment was embarrassingly bare. 

The Organa-Solo apartment was plush and spacious, as befitting the family of the Chief of State, and contained a large central salon suitable for entertaining. But even that was packed to the brim with revellers, although far some the usual dignitaries and aristocracy usually hosted by obligation, with their fine clothes, polite conversation, and practiced, proprietary wit. Rather, the crowd seemed mostly made up of old friends from the Rebellion, in all of their boisterous, lively glory.

There was a band playing folk music - Mara thought she recognised the strains of  _ A Flower of Corellia _ , and Wedge Antilles was gathered nearby with Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivan, teaching them the words as they all consumed dark-ambered whiskey. Leia was reclining on the couch in a simple blue gown, bare feet poking out from beneath the hem and sharing a lively conversation with Lando Calrissian and his wife Tendra.

“Quite the reunion,” Mara said idly as Han returned from restocking the bar, and Chewie took the remaining bottles from her and took them directly to a small cluster of fellow Wookiees in attendance.

“We give good party,” Han told her, and handed her a glass of whiskey. “Luke’s here too, in case that’s who you were looking for.”

Mara pretended she hadn’t heard him, holding the glass up to her nose to take an experimental sniff. It had a rich, bold aroma, and Mara studied the golden-amber liquid, twirling the glass to catch the light. 

“From my private reserve,” Han told her with a wink. “100 year old, from Dregan.”

“Thanks.” Mara took a sip, the rich flavour alighting on her tongue. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted, and she closed her eyes momentarily to savor it.

“You’re welcome,” Han said, “but it comes at a price.” 

Mara’s eyes snapped back open and then narrowed immediately. She should have expected no less from Solo.

“What?”

“Relax, I’m not going to ask you to have someone knocked off,” Han teased and patted her shoulder. “Just stay - enjoy yourself for a change.”

He was gone before she could give a rejoinder, and Mara contended herself into glowering into her glass, which was admittedly worth sticking around for. She sidled over to the far wall, where a table was laden with food and she searched for something to complement the whiskey. Mara helped herself to some shuura pear slices, and then a sharp anster cheese.

“The buffet’s the first thing I go to at a party as well.” A rich voice interrupted her, and Mara looked up to see Luke smiling at her. 

“Yes, I imagine it is.” Mara couldn’t help but smile, casting a glance over his casual appearance - light coloured tunic and brown trousers with notable absence of lightsaber. He did, however, have a blue thistle pinned to his lapel - the flower of Corellia.

“Han make you wear that?” She nodded to it, but Luke shook his head.

“I like to get in the spirit of things.”

“Hmn.” Mara took a slow sip of her whiskey. “So why aren’t you over there?” She nodded towards the band, who were now playing  _ A Passel of Rogues  _ and Wedge, Hobbie and Janson were singing boisterously, shaking their fists in the air in time with the music. 

“If they see me,” Luke grinned, “they’ll make me sing too. For the sake of everyone’s ears I’m hiding over here.”

“Ah, so I’m a cover?"

“Not at all.” Luke gave her a look she always denied made her feel warm. She broke eye contact, turning her attention back to the band.

“I thought this was nationalist screed?” Mara observed. “Not a pro-Republic anthem.”

“Ah, well, they changed the words during the Rebellion,” Luke told her. “With our name being Rogue Squadron and all, Wedge couldn’t resist. It caught on, and all the bands seem to play this version now.” 

“I see.” History rewritten before their eyes - like with the dating system, and the government title; new regimes building upon the old, taking what they want and turning it into something new. 

“So what are your plans for the new year, Mara?” Luke asked, touching her arm lightly. 

She shrugged. “Same as the last, I suppose.”

“So you won’t make it to Yavin then?” There was a note of longing in Luke’s voice. “You didn’t come visit at all last year.”

Mara bristled. “I haven’t the time or inclination to be a Jedi, Luke, you know that.”

He seemed rather sad, staring down into his own drink and swirling the contents thoughtfully. “I’d hope that training wouldn’t be the only reason you’d come.” 

Mara regarded him cautiously. “Why else would I?”

Luke sighed, his blue eyes lifting to meet hers for a single moment, and she was struck by the affection in his gaze, and the answering leap in her belly. But then he looked away, and the moment passed. 

“Never mind,” he said, his voice smooth. “Forget I said anything.” 

Mara put her glass down, her mouth suddenly dry, not even wanting to dwell on what his words had meant, what that look had conveyed. She turned her attention back to the band, who had finished their number and paused while Wedge called the room to attention.

“Alright everyone,” he waved his arms. “It’s Auld Lang Syne!”

The Corellians in the room erupted into cheers, and formed a circle as the band began to play. Wedge began to sing again, this time loudly enough for the whole room to hear, and to Mara’s vast surprise, affected an Old Corellian brogue:

_ Shid auld akwantans be firgot _

_ An nivir brocht ti mynd _

_ Shid auld akwantans be firgot _

_ And auld lang syne? _

“Good, isn’t he?” Luke smiled again, the moment of before seemingly forgotten.

“What does it mean?” Mara asked. She’d heard Corellians sing the song in Basic before, but had never really paid attention to the words.

“Raising a glass to days gone by,” Luke explained, “and remembering old friends.” 

Han had put his arm around Wedge, joining in the chorus.

_ Fir auld lang syne, ma jo, _

_ Fir auld lang syne, _

_ Wil tak a cup o’ kyndness yet, _

_ Fir auld lang syne _

Mara picked her glass back up, taking a small sip as she listened to the song. It was rather beautiful, she conceded, as more Corellians joined in the next verse.

“We two have paddled in the stream,” Luke translated softly. “From morning sun still dine.”

She felt his gaze on her again, and the warmth returned, trickling down her spine.

“But seas between us broad have roared.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Since auld lang sine.”

Mara bit her lip; she’d never felt so uncertain. Had Luke always looked at her that way, always spoken in that soft voice that communicated so much? Or was he simply infected by the revelry, by the beauty of the music, by the loneliness of the season?

“Luke!” Wedge called to him, beckoning with his hand. “Come on!” 

He gave her smile and put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a friendly gesture he’d done countless times before, and Mara had never thought anything of. She watched him cross the room to take his place in the circle on Wedge’s other side. The others were there too - Chewbacca and Leia and Lando - and dozens of others joined by the bonds of friendship and family.

They all crossed their arms over their bodies to join hands with those on either side, all bouncing their joined limbs in unison as they sung the chorus again, this time switching back to Basic.

_ For auld lang syne, my dear, _

_ For auld lang syne, _

_ We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, _

_ For auld lang syne.  _

Mara drowned the last of her whiskey and retreated to the hall, feeling left out, and yet unable to join in. Her mind was whirling, her thoughts jumbled, and she would have blamed the alcohol but she hadn’t had enough to have any affect. She wanted to leave, and yet something in her was urging her to stay - would it be so bad to take a place in the circle as the others had done, join hands in kinship, and sing to days gone by? 

But she didn’t have their shared heritage; she’d never been part of their Rebellion, hadn’t shared the good times or friendships they were honouring. To join their circle meant far more than a simple party custom. 

Taking the middle road, Mara made her way down the hall where she saw a light on at the end. It was the family room, with Jacen and Jaina lounging on the couch sharing a bucket of popcorn, and young Anakin on the floor in his lost bantha cub pajamas. They were watching the large holoscreen that took up much of the wall, where a doe-eyed Twi’leck was listening to a declaration of love.

“I love that you get cold when it’s 20 degrees out,” the male Twi’leck was making his impassioned plea. “I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that after a spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes.”

“What  _ are _ you watching?” she asked, moving into the room.

Jaina turned and gave her a smile. “Oh, hi Miss Jade.” She offered her the bowl of popcorn, and Mara had always had a soft spot for the Solo kids, so she took some.

“We watch this every year while Mom and Dad have their party,” Jaina told her. “It’s a romance - when they first meet they hate each other.”

“She hates him,” Anakin spoke up from the floor, giving Mara a little wave and then turning his attention back to the holoscreen

“Right,” Jaina nodded. “Then they become friends, and then they fall in love! It’s great.”

“I’ll bet.” Mara suppressed a smile, glancing at the screen where the female Twi’leck’s lower lip was trembling.

“Plus the woman who plays the best friend looks  _ just _ like Mom,” Jaina said. “Only with short hair.”

“Shhh!” Jacen’s eyes were glued to the holoscreen, giving the rock lizard on his shoulder a rub. “This is the best part.”

The male Twi’leck was coming to the end of his big speech, his green lekku twitching as fireworks went off in the background.

“And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve,” he said passionately. “I came here tonight because when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

There was, of course, a kiss, as more fireworks went off and confetti fell on their heads. Jacen and Jaina both cheered, while young Anakin wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned his attention to a dismantled practice remote he seemed to be trying to fix.

“Isn’t it romantic?” Jaina turned to Mara with a grin. “I normally don’t like the sappy movies Jacen picks, but this one this pretty good.” 

Mara smiled, not wanting to dampen the young girl’s enthusiasm. 

“I don’t like sappy movies!” Jacen gave his sister a soft shove. 

Jaina rolled her eyes. “I  _ said _ I liked this one.”

Mara left them to their bickering, retreating back out into the hall. It was just a silly holofilm, she scolded herself, romantic tripe that bore no resemblence to reality. And yet the words kept drumming through her head.

_ When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with someone...  _

Mara loitered in the doorway leading back to the salon, eyes scanning the crowd to find Luke by the window, chatting with a couple Mara didn’t know. She wanted him to look back at her, she realised, with his earlier affection, with that soft voice that caused the leap in her belly.

She began to catalogue everything about him; the way he’d never feared her, even when they first met and she’d wanted to kill him. The way he smiled with his whole body, the way his lips folded around her name. His enthusiasm for everything - like wearing a Corellian thistle to celebrate a friend’s heritage. His love for food and the way he’d tempered her finer tastes by showing her where to find the best ribenes at some slum diner on the lower levels - the way he was drawn to the buffet at a party. His stupid jokes and terrible puns, his good-natured teasing that always came with a smile. 

The way he would touch her - clasp her hand or touch her arm, or squeeze her shoulder in a way that never felt intrusive, but rather sent an electric charge through her body. The way he would call her bluff, expecting a favour and knowing he wouldn’t have to ask or give anything in return. His kindness that he extended to every being whether they deserved it or not, the way he never failed to land himself in trouble, and yet miraculously found a way out of it. 

The way he was always, always there for her, and she for him. No matter the time, or distance, or circumstances, they were always drawn back to one another, always watching each other’s backs. It was more than friendship, more than a connection in the force, it was - 

_ You want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. _

Mara made her way purposefully across the room, where Luke was now alone, staring at the city out of the window. Wedge and Han had started up another round of Auld Lang Syne, their exuberant, slightly tipsy voices raised in song, and for some reason, it gave her courage. 

Luke turned and smiled as she approached. “Oh, there you are-”

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him towards her, pressing her lips to his. He was shocked at first, tensing up but then almost immediately relaxing, leaning into the kiss as his arms slid around her. 

People were cheering, and Mara didn’t know if it was because of them or because it had struck midnight - nor did she care. She pulled back to look at Luke, wanting to see that affection in his blue eyes. She found it, and his arms tightened around her as he studied her face.

“Was that a kiss just for New Year?” he asked softly.

“No.” She reached up to touch his face. “It was a kiss for the rest of our lives.”

He looked a little confused, but evidently didn’t care, because he kissed her this time, lips slanting over hers and there it was - the leap in her belly, the tingle in her spine, the electric charge through her body magnified tenfold. 

He was the best thing she’d ever tasted - not even 100 year old whiskey could compare.

**Author's Note:**

> The holofilm is, of course, When Harry Met Sally, co-starring the late great Carrie Fisher
> 
> Auld Lang Syne is by Robert Burns, the "Old Corellian" pronunciation is phonetic Scots
> 
> Happy New Year!


End file.
